Forgiving

The struggle and freedom of asking and giving forgiveness.

It was not a demonstration. The posters billed it as a Maleve Malka – a Saturday night music fest to escort out the Shabbos Queen, accompanied by my husband's klezmer band and circle dancing. True, the location chosen was an abandoned cul-de-sac a block away from Orient House, the infamous P.L.O. headquarters in East Jerusalem. True, the point was to assert Jewish sovereignty in all of Jerusalem.

True, the unveiling of the secret Oslo Accords eight months before had been followed by a series of massive demonstrations, which often deteriorated into hair-raising scenes of police brutality, complete with water hoses aimed at protesters' eyes. But this was not a demonstration. No placards, no speeches. Rather, an air of family festivity, with children and elderly people aplenty. I was glad I had come to hear my husband play.

While the band waited on the makeshift stage for the generator to be delivered, the organizers set up loudspeakers on high poles around the perimeter of the crowd. People conversed easily with a squad of border policemen, the paramilitary force known as the heavies of the defense establishment, whom we assumed were there to keep the Jews and nearby Arabs peacefully separate.

Finally, the music started, a lilting Klezmer tune. In the center of the crowd, a large circle of men joined hands and began to dance.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the border policemen charged into the crowd, swinging billy clubs and beating everyone in their path. Amidst horrified screams and cries, they reached the generator and unplugged it. The music stopped mid-note.

Several policemen jumped onto the stage, grabbing clarinets and guitars out of the hands of the musicians. Other troops started to pull down the loudspeakers. Standing near the stage, in shock and horror, I noticed an old man positioned directly under one of the loudspeakers. I shouted to warn him, but could not be heard over the din of shrieks and wails. I ran toward him, but was cut off by the charge of a giant horse, twice the size of any horse I had ever seen. Terrified, I retreated toward the stage, which by now was encircled by border policemen to prevent the musicians from escaping.

I was a veteran of anti-Vietnam War demonstrations in America in the sixties, but I had never in my life experienced such ruthless police tactics -— and without any justification! Unnerved, I started yelling at the police: "What are you doing? How can Jews act this way? You are Jews, but you're worse than the American police!"

One tall, fortyish policeman with short, cropped hair hollered back at me: "You don't belong here. You're an American! Go back to America!"

He had pushed all my Zionist buttons. Irate, I slapped him across the face.

He gestured to the policeman next to him. Each grabbed one of my forearms and pulled me away. The one I had slapped dug his fingers into my arm so forcefully that even a month later five bruises on my right forearm would testify to his brutality. They dragged me some twenty meters to a paddy wagon, then threw me into it so roughly that they tore my skirt and cut a three-inch gash into my knee.

At the police station, a police officer asked me what had happened. I told him the whole story: how without warning the police had attacked the crowd, how they had endangered an elderly man, how I had been prevented from saving him by giant horses, how a border policeman had insulted me, how I had reacted, and how, instead of a civil, "You're under arrest," they had brutally manhandled me. After signing my deposition, I was sent home.

That was the last I heard of the matter for over two years. One day, a registered letter arrived for me. I had been charged with striking a policeman, and was summoned to appear in court.

I hired a lawyer, a balding, religious man. "In Israel," he quietly informed me, "there is a mandatory prison sentence for striking a policeman."

"What?" I answered, appalled. "I'm the one who was hurt. I still have the scar on my knee. Besides, he provoked me. He insulted me, told me to go back to America."

"Nonetheless," the lawyer answered calmly, "You confessed to striking a policeman. Why did you incriminate yourself?"

"What did you expect me to do?" I countered with righteous indignation. "Lie?"

"You could have kept silent."

Silence? It never occurred to me (and rarely does)!

"The only way to keep you out of jail is for you to throw yourself on the mercy of the court. It's a first offence. You have a pretty good chance of getting off, if you humbly admit you made a mistake and promise the court you won't repeat it."

It was a few weeks before Rosh Hashanah, and I had been studying the steps of teshuva (repentance):

Admit the sin to God.

Regret.

Resolve not to repeat it.

The lawyer's prescription sounded eerily similar.

But why should I do teshuva? I hadn't done anything wrong! I was the aggrieved party! I mulled over the matter for a couple minutes. Then, protesting my innocence (after all, I had been sorely provoked), I told the lawyer I would do whatever he said. I didn't want to go to jail.

When our meeting was over, I gathered up my things to leave. "You know," the lawyer said parenthetically, more like a brother than a lawyer, "you were wrong."

"But he insulted me!" I defended myself.

"If you're walking down the street and someone comes up to you and insults you," the lawyer said quietly, "do you have the right to slap him?"

I stared across the desk at the lawyer's penetrating expression. It was the first time it occurred to me that perhaps I had done something wrong.

If I had done something wrong, then I would have to do teshuva.

All the way home I weighed the matter. In three weeks it would be Rosh Hashanah, when every soul stands before God in judgment. I was accountable for my actions. If I had done something wrong, then I would have to do teshuva. But the three steps of confession, regret, and resolution for the future suffice only in sins against God. Sins against another person require two additional steps: asking forgiveness and (when applicable) making restitution. With horror it dawned on me: If it really was wrong to slap the border policeman, I would have to ask his forgiveness.

As soon as I got home, I telephoned my rebbetzin. "Of course," she confirmed in a plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face tone, "hitting someone, except in self-defense, is prohibited by the Torah. Even if he did something wrong, it doesn't give you license to do something wrong. Of course, you have to do teshuva for striking him."

Long after hanging up, I sat there holding the telephone. How was I even supposed to find the border policeman? I didn't know his name. And if I did manage to find him and ask him for forgiveness, now, with the trial pending, he would certainly suspect that I was trying some extra-judicial trick to get him to reduce the charges against me. He would certainly hang up on me.

The next day, I called the lawyer. "Is there any way to find out the name of the border policeman I slapped?"

It took me a week, but, with Rosh Hashanah swiftly approaching, one day I summoned my resolve and looked up "Tuito, Ronny" in the Jerusalem phone book. There were two listings under that name. Apprehensively, I dialed the first number. A man answered the phone.

"I...I'm looking for Ronny Tuito, the border policeman," I stammered.

"That's my cousin. 581-3796."

Great, I thought. Now I have no excuse not to call. I dialed the number. To my great relief, an answering machine picked up. I hung up. What time of day would a border policeman be home anyway?

The next evening, I tried again. A man's voice answered. "Is this Ronny Tuito?" I asked, nervously.

"Yes," came the crisp Hebrew reply.

I took a deep breath and blurted out the speech I had rehearsed thirty times. "Two years ago at a Maleve Malka near Orient House, I slapped you. What I did was wrong, and I'm sorry. Since Rosh Hashanah is approaching, and I'm more afraid of the Heavenly Court than the earthly court, I'm calling to ask you for forgiveness."

Only a moment elapsed before I heard his cursory response: "I forgive you."

Relief hit me like an avalanche. Of course! This is a Jewish country. Even a non-religious border policeman understands the dynamics of asking and granting forgiveness before the High Holidays. I felt cleansed, as if a piece of gum which had stuck to my blouse was suddenly gone.

"Thank you," I breathed. "And may you and your family be inscribed for a year of life, good health, and blessings."

"Thank you. You and your family, too," he said politely, and hung up.

Postscript: A month later I was sentenced to two months, suspended sentence on condition that I didn't hit any more policemen for a three-year probation period. And I didn't.

Asking Forgiveness

It's hard to ask forgiveness. Sometimes the mechanics are sticky: locating a person from our past, initiating the conversation in privacy, getting the offended person to listen to us.

Harder still are the inner dynamics: Examining actions we would rather forget; cutting through the rationalizations to admit that what we did was wrong, despite the provocations and extenuating circumstances; and humbling ourselves to ask for a gift (forgiveness is always a gift) from someone to whom we may have felt morally superior.

To forgive is tantamount to executing a divine function.

God promises us atonement on Yom Kippur. Atonement is a wondrous, miraculous reality that bleaches out even the most stubborn stains on our soul. Atonement reconciles us with God and our own highest selves. To procure atonement, all we have to do is teshuva, the sincere changing direction of our heart and actions. Asking forgiveness, one of the five steps of teshuva for a sin against another human being, is a relatively small price to pay for the soul-cleansing available to us on Yom Kippur.

And if the person we have hurt refuses to grant us forgiveness? The Torah requires that we humbly, sincerely ask for forgiveness three separate times. After that, the onus is on the one who refuses to forgive.

Granting Forgiveness

When asked for forgiveness, a Jew is enjoined to forgive. This can be the hardest act of all. After all, we may have been grievously hurt, in body, mind, or heart. To forgive is tantamount to executing a divine function. It leaves the offender off the hook (presuming he or she has done the other required steps of teshuva which would exonerate the offender before God).

A Jew is not required to forgive an offender who has not undertaken the steps of teshuva such as regret and concrete change. A recent article in the L.A. Times about the aunt of an abducted, molested child unilaterally forgiving the pedophile who raped her young niece is an anathema from the Jewish viewpoint. Forgiving unrepentant evil only encourages its continuance.

On the other hand, nothing more quickly procures divine forgiveness for our sins, both those we remember and those we don't, than forgiving those who have sinned against us. The principle of mida k'neged mida means that we get what we give. When we stand before God on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur our most compelling defense is: "I have forgiven those who sinned against me. Please forgive me in turn."

The Gate Of Forgiveness

From the time she was three years old and until she reached puberty, Cindy was sexually molested by her uncle, with the knowledge of her alcoholic mother.

When Cindy grew up, she converted to Judaism. Eventually she married a man who was also a sexual abuser, and had two children with him. She would later say, "I married my mother in drag."

The only contact Cindy had with her mother as an adult was the time her mother telephoned and asked for a meeting. Was she finally repentant? Cindy wondered on the way to the meeting. Did she finally regret all the damage she had done her daughter?

They met at a secluded place on the beachfront. Cindy's mother withdrew some papers from a manila envelope and explained that she had applied for a job in the school system, but had been turned down because of the charge of child molestation on her record. Now she asked Cindy to officially deny the charges, to claim she had lied, so that her mother could get the job she sought.

Cindy threw the papers in her mother's face and stormed away. She did not see nor speak to her mother for the next eleven years.

During that time, Cindy fled from her husband, taking her children with her. For a year they hid on a remote island in the South Pacific, a two-hour boat ride away from the nearest grocery store. Eventually they made their way to Israel.

After seven years of living underground under an assumed identity, Cindy was discovered. In the court case that followed, the Israeli judge found in her favor; she would not send Cindy nor her children back to America.

In the course of the court battle, Cindy's husband came to Israel to testify against her. He was slapped with an injunction prohibiting him from leaving the country until he gave Cindy a get, a Jewish writ of divorce.

On a Monday afternoon two weeks ago, Cindy was notified by her lawyer that she would be receiving her get the next afternoon. Tuesday morning Cindy celebrated by telephoning her mother.

"You did not protect me as you should have," Cindy cried into the telephone. "But you gave me life. And now, after all these years, I love my life. I have a beautiful family. I love my children. And today I'll have my get. I'm grateful to God. And I'm grateful to you for giving me life. I forgive you for everything you did to me."

Every time we forgive, we open up the gates of forgiveness in the world.

Tearfully, she added: "You see things differently at forty than you do at twenty-five."

Cindy's mother sobbed back into the telephone: "You see things differently at sixty than you do at forty."

They spoke for two hours. When they hung up, Cindy said: "I feel like I received a get from my mother on the same day I'm receiving a get from my husband. I feel freer than I ever have in my life."

Every time we forgive, we open up the gates of forgiveness in the world. And we are the first ones to walk through.

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About the Author

Sara Yoheved Rigler is the author of God Winked: Tales and Lessons from my Spiritual Adventures, as well as the bestsellers: Holy Woman, Lights from Jerusalem, and Battle Plans: How to Fight the Yetzer Hara(with Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller). She is a popular international lecturer on subjects of Jewish spirituality. She has given lectures and workshops in Israel, England, Switzerland, South Africa, Mexico, Chile, Canada, and over thirty American cities. A graduate of Brandeis University, after fifteen years of practicing and teaching meditation and Eastern philosophy, she discovered "the world's most hidden religion: Torah Judaism." Since 1985, she has been living as a Torah-observant Jew in the Old City of Jerusalem with her husband and two children. She presents a highly-acclaimed Marriage Workshop for women [seewww.kesherwife.com] as well as a Gratitude Workshop. To invite her to your community, please write to info@sararigler.com.

Visitor Comments: 22

(22)
y'hoshua halevi,
June 2, 2010 1:36 PM

who knows what levels of shemayim open up when ms. rigler's piece on forgiveness goes out into the jewish world and people are inspired to do true tshuva!! yasher koach to you and your family. the insult that the policeman said to you was a reflection of his sad ignorance. you, especially you, are a true blessing to kol am yisrael and your ancestors can be very proud of your contribution. i for one am always glad to read your pieces and always find them very helpful.

(21)
raye,
June 2, 2010 1:35 PM

The uplifting quality of forgiveness

How is one able to forgive someone when taken by surprise. The last words my sister uttered from her bed in the hospice was "I'm sorry. Forgive me." I was stunned and could not reply. Our relationship had been strained for a number of years. Our longdistance telephone conversations left me in despair. I could not understand her hostility. There were rare moments when we shared our poetry. Now I regret my speechlessness. I guess I was so used to being browbeaten by members of my family (I was the youngest), that it never occurred to me that anyone would be sorry. I am planning to write a posthumous letter to my sister accepting her forgiveness wholeheartedly.

(20)
Rita,
June 2, 2010 1:35 PM

enlightening article

Sara Rigler did it again. She took a concept and extended it to the next level of understanding and application.

(19)
Shaul,
June 2, 2010 1:34 PM

It helps to open your eyes !

We sometimes get carried away by anger, feel offended and close ourselves within our own bitterness, looking for reasons to be angry and unforgiving. Forgiving is a big step to take, but we have to take it.
Thank you Sarah,
Shana Tova ugmar hatima tova.

(18)
Sheree,
June 2, 2010 1:33 PM

Thanks for reminding me to ask forgivness and to forgive

I am a slow learner,at 47 I am trying to learn all I refused to learn during all the previous years.Thank You,sheree

(17)
sophie,
August 20, 2008 3:59 AM

questions

1) how many people wl forgive a person like hitler if he just say the 1 word sorry? wl ur anger quench even he was punished?
2) if the victim of a case doesnt forgive u, (perhaps he is just a miser or mean), the offender wl never be forgiven after he asks for 1? that's not fair.

(16)
Anonymous,
May 13, 2006 12:00 AM

Thanks You

I am in the middle of a personal crisis which affects my whole family. Forgiveness is exactly what is called for. At this time it appears it will be easier to get forgiveness from others than to forgive myself. Thanks for the article.

(15)
CINDY,
March 12, 2003 12:00 AM

i HOPE I HELPED SOMEONE

DEAR READERS, i AM THE cINDY IN SARA'S STORY. i CNA NEVER CONDONEOR ACEPT WHAT THIS WOMAN HAD DONE TO ME REPEATEDLY THROUGHOUT MY LIFE. bUT IA MS SICK OF HATING . hASHEM GAVE ME ATRENGHT AND A BEAUTIFUL LIFE. iT IS NEVER TO LATE TO HAVE A HAPPY CHILDHOOD. tHANK YOU SARA, AND I PRAY FOR ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE LIVED THROUGH MY TRAUMA. g;D bLESS.

(14)
Denyse Aita,
September 20, 2002 12:00 AM

The greatest act of Love is to Forgive, the greatest act of courage is to accept that forgiveness

This is one of the most inspiring texts I have ever read...These past weeks , I have been deeply hurt by someone and I can say without shame, how heartbroken I was ! After reading this wonderful article, I can cope much better and will see things differently from now on!
I compare this article, as someone throwing me a lifeline...It lifted my spirit so high that I know I can now fly even higher than before because Forgiveness is the best definition of
true freedom ... and from my heart to yours ... thank you ! Denyse

I appreciate the timely nature of this article and the honesty with which it was written. Thank you. I have some major forgiving to do as well. It's hard to let go of the "victimization" feeling. It means developing a new, non-victim identity. I'm on my way to doing so, thank G-d, and thanks to inspiration such as that provided in this article. Kesiva ve'chasima tova.

(11)
Zhenhua Liu,
August 30, 2002 12:00 AM

Precious gift from the Almighty

As a Chinese i know the value of teshuva better 'cos i have 1 more angle.
This is one of the many factors explaining the strength of the small Jewish country and the weakness of my vast motherland, China, where most people forgive after they lie in tombs.
Poor victims of astheism.
:=(

(10)
karl rose,
August 28, 2002 12:00 AM

forgive and forget

You truly will know if you have forgiven someone,if, or when you recall that person or event you do not have feelings of hate. I do as my Mother taught me, to give it up to The Lord G-d.
Karl

p.s. It always seems to me, that Iam always asking G-d to forgive me for something on each and every day. :)

(9)
Lee Calig,
August 27, 2002 12:00 AM

Just what the spiritual Doctor ordered.

You articles on acquiring faith and on forgiving are wonderful. They are both timely and thought provoking. I'am sharing them with family and friends.

Thank you,

Lee Calig

(8)
Rochel,
August 27, 2002 12:00 AM

beautiful article

This is an awesome article, and really helped especially b/c I have a very hard time forgiving people. Thank you.

(7)
Anonymous,
August 26, 2002 12:00 AM

why the harsh tactics of the police?

Hello--I very much appreciate Sara's articles--they are excellent. This is the second time I have heard of harsh behavior of police in dealing with demonstrators--the other time was more recently concerning an incident involving Women in Green.I have nothing but admiration for the Israelis and find it disturbing and hard to believe.

(6)
Rox,
August 26, 2002 12:00 AM

What about the insult?

It was wonderful that the author was forgiven for the slapping. But what justifies the insult that preceded it? What justifies the police charging into the demonstration??? What justifies the bruises on the arm??? I certainly hope this officer asks for forgiveness just as much as he was asked....one sided "forgiveness" is even worse than no forgiveness.....it merely "justifies" the actions of the officier. I find this disturbing, however, a thought provoking article.

(5)
G. C. Walter,
August 26, 2002 12:00 AM

Forgive--Holacaust?

I was born in Berlin in 1937-lost all my family Family "Less" and "Flatow" all got killed by European Christians. I myself along with my mother got picked up, taken to a Collection Caomp in Berlin, but do to heavy bombartment in Berlin, the trains to Auschwitz could not leave the station--so Thanks to G-D I am alive and ask "WHY?" I tried to talk to people to see if they feel sorry and at many times I was told
"You Jews lie-there never was such a thing as a Holacaust-! This is the US and I still hurt - even my own children tell me-"OH stop Dad-what's over is over-you are alive" Forgiving is NOT easy if the other person feels Nothing wrong was done. So I pray for them and hope such evil will never be repeated! I also pray for peace between the Jewish and Moslems in Israel and Palestine. Thank you for your excellent write ups.

(4)
miriam bat tabitah,
August 26, 2002 12:00 AM

Understanding the daily pressures on IDF

Recently a ninth generation Israeli visited our city. He said he would give anything for one good night's sleep. Who can judge the brave and resilient Jews in Israel who face unimagineble fears and hardships everyday, from suicide bombings to Saddam Hussein's potential nuclear weapons. If IDF at times makes logistical errors or comes off heavy handed, well???? American Jews, If you can assist IDF, in the name of G-d go and help!

(3)
shoshanna lane,
August 25, 2002 12:00 AM

this brought me to tears

i am so glad you are writing to help our jewish people.. bless you `to continue to be inspired..see you soon

(2)
sarah shapiro,
August 25, 2002 12:00 AM

wonderful

What a wonderful article. It makes saying "I'm sorry" one of the most exciting things a person can do

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

With stories and insights,
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